We Pay The Price
by Roslyn Drycof
Summary: Children always have to pay the price for war and Harry's been paying for it for sixteen years. Draco feels the War's dangerous claws as a spy. Lovers, but not in love, they struggle to stop the War before more of their friends pay the price. HPDM
1. Lies

**Title**: We Pay The Price

**Author**: Roslyn Drycof

**Chapter**: One---Lies

**Pairing**: Harry/Draco, (others will be revealed later)

**Rating**: PG-13

**Warning**: slash, swearing, violence, angst, slight tragedy (no death of major characters, don't worry)

**Summary**: Children always have to pay the price for war. And sometimes the cost is too much. Here's a story about how seven lives are irrevocably affected by war's often deadly price. Personalities change, friendships transform, and love finds fertile soil. HPDM

**Disclaimer**: Harry Potter and anything related to Harry Potter and Co. are not mine.

* * *

Scratches ran down his back and red marks dotted his neck and collarbone. Bruises in various stages of healing encircled his wrists, marred the flesh of his hips, and purpled random spots on his sides and back. He moved stiffly, as if he were in pain. What the hell had happened him his best friend?

"Harry, mate, is there something you want to tell me? You aren't being abused or anything by anyone, are you?" Ron Weasley asked weakly, his eyes fixated on the hideous marks covering Harry.

In the process of pulling his shirt on, Harry froze and slowly turned to face the redhead. Shit. He knew he should've waited until everyone was gone to change. "Nope. Why'd you ask?"

Ron gaped at his friend. He couldn't be serious. He had to know his marks were completely visible. "Look at you!"

The emerald-eyed teen bit his lip and turned around again. He tugged the shirt over his head and settled it into place, covering the marks marring his skin. "I don't know what you're talking about, Ron. There's nothing wrong with me."

Frustration beat at the youngest male Weasley. Why was his friend being so evasive? He stared at Harry's shirt, faintly noticing that it was a turtleneck sweater. Another _black_ turtleneck sweater. Harry had been wearing them for the past month. Odd behavior, considering he even wore them under his school uniform. That wasn't to say that it looked good on Harry, but still. Who wears clothes like that? Other than Malfoy, of course.

"Harry, don't play games with me. I'm talking about the bruises completely covering you!"

"Oh those. I've been training pretty hard lately." The raven-haired boy shrugged and left the dorm room.

Ron watched his friend walk away and couldn't help but feel a spurt of anger. They were supposed to be best friends. So why was Harry hiding this from him? It made no sense, and it hurt. A lot.

When he went down to the common room a few minutes later, he found only Hermione standing there. Everyone else had already gone to breakfast, including Harry. Up until a month ago, they'd all gone together. Harry had changed, closed himself off more. And this worried both his best friends.

"Something wrong with Harry, 'Mione," he said to his friend after embracing her in a tight hug.

Sadness filled her warm brown eyes. "I know. He barely even said good morning to me today."

"I found bruises and red marks all over him this morning and he just shrugged me off, acting as if they were nothing. Said they were from his training. But I don't believe him. I can't," he told her, leading her to the portrait hole.

Hermione gasped at this information. How could Harry let himself get hurt like that? And why didn't he heal the marks? It was a simple enough thing to heal bruises and light scratches. For the past month, he'd been disappearing for hours at a time with no explanation to where he went. He was changed from the open Harry Potter they used to know. And they wished with all their hearts that the old Harry would come back.

"I don't know what to do, 'Mione," her copper-haired friend whispered, looking lost.

"Me neither Ron, me neither." It pained her to admit it, but it was true. She, the smartest girl at Hogwarts, had no idea what to do.

* * *

Harry didn't go to breakfast that morning. He stood by the entrance to the Great Hall and waited until a certain person walked by and then dragged him to an alcove in the nearest corridor. His breathing was ragged as he slammed the person against the stone wall. "Ron saw the marks."

Draco Malfoy swore under his breath. "You idiot! Now they'll be snooping around!"

The emerald-eyed teen glared at him and shoved at the blond's shoulder. A satisfying thud was heard as his back hit the wall again and they both knew the spot would bruise. Neither cared. "You don't think I know that?!"

"I don't know. You could have forgotten. I mean, you already let your guard down and let the weasel see."

"Fuck!" Harry swore, slammed his palm against the wall. Anger thrummed in his veins.

"That sums it up in a nutshell."

He turned to glare at the silver-eyed boy. "Shut up."

"I'm the one who has the right to be angry. You're the one who slipped up!" Draco hissed angrily, shoving at the other teen.

Harry hit the wall hard, the air escaping instantly from his lungs. The impact helped his anger grow. "You're the one who caused them, you overzealous git!"

The blond snarled at him, pulling up his shirt and pointing at the marks on his pale skin. "You're not exactly gentle, either!"

Harry grinned proudly at the sight of his marks on the other boy. They so enjoyed roughing each other up. "I can't help it. You know how what it does to me."

A dark gleam came into Malfoy's eyes and he whispered, "Oh yes, I know exactly what it does."

Draco licked his lips at the memory of what happened last time. Potter had gone wild. But then again, so had he. It was so thrilling to just let go. Let go of all inhibitions, of all control. It was like a drug. They just couldn't get enough of its high.

"Damn, I'm getting hard just thinking about it!" Harry groaned, running a hand haphazardly through his hair.

Draco couldn't resist. He moved as quick as lightning and pressed the other boy against the wall. His mouth swooped down and covered the other's, their tongues instantly tangling together. A moan escaped both of them.

"Can't do this. . .ah. . .now," Harry gasped, his hands finding their way under Malfoy's shirt and scratching at the soft skin. Draco's muscles contracted in pain and pleasure in response.

"Who says we can't?" Draco breathed, roughly parting Potter's legs and sliding between them.

The raven-haired boy didn't answer, instead grabbing ahold of his lover's hair and pulling. Hard. Draco gasped harshly at this and bit the tender area at the edge of Potter's jaw, right under his ear. This elicited a quickly muffled shout of pain. Draco immediately began licking the spot, working his mouth against the smooth skin.

A few moments passed and then Harry suddenly shoved him away. "We can't. Not now."

Both instantly hated the feeling of emptiness that engulfed them at the lost of contact. "Later. After Potions."

Harry nodded, his eyes darkening with anticipation. "Definitely."

With that, he strode out of the alcove and away from his secret lover. His heart was still pounding furiously and he knew his face was flushed, his lips swollen. No way to hide those little indications of what he'd been doing. Oh well. Hopefully no one would notice.

In Advanced Transfiguration, he was busy working on the assigment for the day, when he felt a pair of eyes on him. He knew instantly who it was. Turning, he caught Ron's gaze. The redhead had been staring at the mark right beneath his jaw. That, unfortunately, was a mark he couldn't hide by the turtleneck without looking like an idiot.

* * *

Ron knew that mark hadn't been there before. It was still fresh, still a bright pink. And it was a mark of passion. Why hadn't he seen it before? Harry was in a relationship with someone. Only. . .why was he bruised? The scratches and bite marks could be explained, a bit of rough play could easily do that. But the bruises, they were different. Was Harry in an abusive relationship? He hoped not.

A part of him said that Harry would never involve himself with an abusive person, having lived with the Dursley's abuse for too long. And yet, he couldn't dismiss the idea. Why else would he be bruised in places that could easily be explained by someone gripping him too hard or slamming him against the wall? It scared him.

It was like Harry was headed on a crash-course to destruction. He'd changed over the summer, Sirius' death affecting him greatly. It was as if he no longer thought anything mattered. That kind of thinking scared Ron because it wasn't healthy. With a mentality like that, Harry could wind up dead.

When his friend had shown up at the Burrow near the end of the summer, his changes had been glaringly apparent. His entire appearance had changed. The new Harry Potter didn't wear glasses and wore only the best clothes. Only designer threads for him, and only in black, silver, dark purple, gray, crimson, midnight blue, and dark green. He cut his hair and gelled it into spikes. He pierced his left ear and always wore a small silver hoop in the hole. He even got a tattoo of a phoenix on his lower back.

And those were only the physical changes. Harry also came back looking a lot angrier. He was prone to aggressiveness, especially around Malfoy. He controlled all of his feelings behind a mask of barely-concealed arrogance. The only real emotion he let anyone see was anger, and even then he kept it to a simmering level. It was a scary thing to see, when he became furious. He would appear to become calm, but his movements would be more tense than usual and his eyes would blaze with an unnatural rage. No one wanted to be the focus of that anger, no one but Malfoy.

But Malfoy seemed to get a kick out of angering Harry. Harry always obliged with a fight. And these fights were horrifying to watch. Everyone would stare at the two of them, unable to look away and yet cringing at the sight of their fury. Harry and Malfoy didn't fight with wands. They had no need. Sometime over the summer, they'd learned wandless magic. It was one of the rarest abilities known to the wizarding world, and yet no one doubted that they were certainly powerful enough to possess this great ability. Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy were the undisputed premier wizards of their generation.

Caught up in his thoughts, Ron almost didn't hear McGonagall dismiss the class. With zombie-like motions, he slowly gathered up his things and trudged out of the classroom. And as he watched Harry stride away, his robe billowing out behind him, he felt a chill run down his spine. _He looks awfully like Malfoy. . ._

The red-head almost immediately tried to suppress the horrible thought, but it stayed with him as his eyes followed Harry's quickly disappearing figure. Harry walked the same way as Malfoy, with an arrogant stride that spoke volumes of confidence. Harry hid his emotions behind a mask of indifference like Malfoy. Harry even smirked like Malfoy. Their eerie similarities fairly curdled Ron's stomach.

* * *

"I think Ron is wising up. He's noticing similarities between us," Harry drawled lazily to his lover, stretching his arms and settling them behind his head.

Beside him, Draco Malfoy propped up on an elbow and stared at him. Disbelief clearly shone in his silver eyes. "The weasel? He'd actually have to possess a brain for him to notice anything beyond food and Granger."

The raven-haired teen sighed. "You're being terribly unfair to him. He may be a trifle thick-headed, but he's not stupid. Unlike Crabbe and Goyle. . ." He said the last with a pointed look.

"I've told you. I keep them around as bodyguards, nothing more. I've made sure that their loyal to me and me alone, so they're good in a tight spot. Can't say the same for the weasel."

Harry scowled blackly. "Ron's loyal, and unlike your lackeys, it's out of true friendship. He may not understand me anymore, but he still cares. But you wouldn't know anything about friendship, now would you?"

The blond reeled back, a hurt look flashing in his eyes before he hid it behind his mask of cool indifference. "Your "friendship" is a lie. It doesn't exist. People only respect one thing, and that's power. If you had no power whatsoever, no one would look twice at you. It's the way of the world."

"That's not true. True friends don't care whether you have are the poorest person in the world or the richest. Ron and Hermione never cared who I was and they never will. They'd do anything for me, simply because we're friends."

"No one would die for someone else for no reason. Can you dispute that?" Draco challenged.

Harry smiled grimly. "Actually, I can. My parents died to save me. Sirius died for me. Ron and Hermione almost died for me. And it was all because they cared about me."

"Caring? That's a foolish sentiment. I've lived my entire life without anyone giving a shit about me and I'm fine," the other boy scoffed, glaring at his lover.

"Oh, you're fine? That's so preposterous, it's laughable. You're so fucked up, you belong in St. Mungos."

"And you're a shining example of sanity? Now _that_ is laughable. You are the biggest pretender I've ever seen, you even manage to fool yourself."

Harry fumed at the thinly-veiled contempt he heard in Malfoy's voice. It anyone deserved contempt, it was him! The cold bastard who took pleasure in hurting others. Damn him. "I may not be the paragon everyone seems to think I am, but at least I have enough sense not to throw back the only kindness anyone has shown me."

"You call us shagging whenever it's convenient a bit of kindness? You're more delusional than I thought!" Draco shouted, sliding off the bed and jerking his pants on. He quickly buttoned them and threw his sweater over his head.

That hurt. They didn't just shag and he knew it. "I can't believe you. We don't just shag, and you know it. But I guess the Ice Prince of Slytherin can't admit to feeling such a stupid sentiment as caring!"

"I don't care. I have never admitted to feeling such a pathetic thing. If you're finished spouting such nonsense, I'll just take my leave. Good day." With that, Draco pulled on his robe and stalked out of the small room.

Emerald eyes watched as the door swung shut behind him and Harry lay back with a growl. _How dare he?!_

They may not be in love, hell, they may not even be in like, but they did have a relationship. They didn't just screw around to pass the time. But Malfoy couldn't admit that they actually did more than shag. In reality, they talked and shared their wretched excuses for lives with each other. But the Slytherin was just too full of pride to acknowledge their bond.

_I'm not going to wait around for him to admit the truth! Yeah, we're not in love and we don't pretend to be. But I at least acknowledge the fact that we need each other to keep the pain of reality at bay. We understand each other, but he just can't admit it. Damn his pride! Damn him!_

* * *

Draco knew he shouldn't have said those things to Potter, but he couldn't help it. He couldn't admit that he wasn't strong enough to admit it. That he wasn't strong enough to accept help or caring from someone. He'd spent his whole life alone. He didn't know how _not_ be alone. Even as he'd said those wretched things, he'd berated himself for uttering them. It was he who was the fool, not Potter. Not Potter.

As he strode into the Slytherin common room, he realized something that struck him in his cold heart. They hadn't physically fought. It had been the first time this entire year they hadn't raised a finger against each other. And in truth, they'd shown more real emotion in those few minutes than they'd shown all year. And. . .it was all because of him. Because of his stupid pride, the masks had cracked, even if for just a few minutes.

"Drake, whose bed did you just crawl out of?" a feminine voice intruded on his chaotic thoughts.

He froze, anger welling up instantly. Damn it! He should've taken the time to make sure he looked impeccable as always. Damn emotions! They were no good. Only caused trouble.

"And I suppose you think I'm going to tell you, correct?" he drawled, turning to face a blond-haired girl. A cold smirk was settled on his features and his eyes were like icy fire.

Pansy stared at him, her face falling into a blank mask. He sounded so much colder than he'd been towards her and Blaise these last few weeks. For a while, she'd thought they were actually becoming friends. Foolish her. "No. I don't."

Draco heard the defeat in her voice and inwardly cringed. Did he sound that cruel? Yes, he probably did. "You don't have to get so melancholy, Pansy. I simply do not share my private matters with anyone, and that includes who I'm currently involved with."

She had to suppress the urge to gape. Had he just uttered something that resembled an apology? Certainly, it wasn't an actual apology. But. . .he'd actually stated a reason for his cruel words, and that was more than anything she'd heard come from his mouth before.

"I understand. Oh, an owl came by during supper while you were gone."

The silver-eyed boy felt his heart come to a sudden halt as he spied the black envelope she pulled from her robe pocket. He snatched it from her and immediately hid it within the folds of his own robe.

"I didn't open it," she mumbled as she saw his expression. When he showed no emotion whatsoever, that meant he was scared. Scared shitless. Oh Dear Merlin. . .it wasn't a letter summoning him to a Death Eater meeting, was it? If it was, she knew he had a right to be terrified.

He gave a small nod in response before leaving the Slytherin common room. His movements tense, he headed towards the small room he and Harry had been in earlier. Hopefully, Potter had already left.

Relief and disappointment warred in his mind as he entered the room to find it empty. He sat down on the bed and pulled out the black envelope, staring at it with dread.

With faintly trembling fingers, he opened it up and pulled a thin piece of parchment out. It was a letter bespelled so that only someone with the Dark Mark could open. Many of the Death Eaters used such letters to communicate with each other, and Voldemort used them when he didn't want a full-scale meeting or had some nefarious purpose in mind that involved details or intructions.

_Draco,_

_The Dark Lord has called a meeting of the Inner Circle and I was told to send for you. Good job, my son, for rising within the ranks so quickly. You are a true Malfoy at heart. _

_On with things, the Dark Lord professes an interest concerning the Potter boy's behavior this year thus far. We've recieved reports that he is not the Golden Boy he once was. If this is true, we must know and prepare for any other changes. Come immediately to Lesley Castle and report your findings. All other useful information will be reported as well. _

_Signed, _

_Lucius Malfoy_

Draco instantly set the letter on fire with a snap of his fingers and he lay back on the bed, suddenly exhausted. He didn't want to go, but knew he had to. He hated the meetings, hated being in the prescence of Voldemort. But what could he do? He'd told Dumbledore he would spy for him when his father had approached him about being Inititiated. He was trapped. Utterly, completely trapped by his birthright and by his fast-growing conscience.

Sighing, he sat up and reached into into his shirt to lift a chain out of it. A silver ring hung loosely on it. It had a small ruby set into it and looked quite innocuous. . .if not for the fact that there were special markings on the inside of the band and the fact that the ruby, which wasn't really a ruby at all, could change colors with a tiny flare of power by the wearer. It was one of the two Rings of Cailyn.

The Rings of Cailyn hadn't been seen in centuries, not since the fall of last Ard-Ri of Ireland. They were rings of power, and had been crafted by the sidhe untold ages ago. Cailyn, the Unseelie sidhe who'd created the rings, had made them after her mortal wizard lover was killed in battle by an invading muggle army. Most knowledge of the rings was lost, but it was said that the rings were connected to each other and connected the wearers. They could be used as a means of communication and as an indicator if one of the wearers was in danger. The rings also prevented the wearers from being killed by any mortal means. Unless a weapon was crafted by magic, the wearer couldn't be killed. Not a lot of help against a wizard or one of the fey, but very useful when facing a muggle.

When the sidhe had abandoned the mortal world completely, shutting their gates against humankind, it was said that it caused the magic to start dying in the world. Wizards and witches who'd had untold power before found their power halved or worse. Muggles began to fear magic and prosecuted anyone suspected of being a witch or wizard. Thus the wizard community became hidden and the end of the old days was complete. Within a few centuries, the Ard-Ri of Ireland had all but died out, Ireland lost its magic, and the world became a deadened place. All relics given to the wizards and witches disappeared and a world once teeming with the essence of magic, became a cold place of iron and machines.

Thus, when Harry and Draco woke up one morning with the Rings of Cailyn on their fingers, they were utterly surprised. Draco had been instantly suspicious. It _was_ sidhe made, and those fey monsters were not to be trusted. (Did I forget to mention that a hatred of all faery sprung up in the hearts of the abandoned witches and wizards?) Harry had thought differently. If the rings had come to them at a time when the wizarding community was in such need, then any gift was not to be thrown away. His lover reluctantly agreed, and found the rings useful. They were frustrated that so much of the rings' power was unknown, but used what they knew to their advantage. Unfortunately, they had to hide the rings because they would've been recognized immediately. Both wore them on silver chains around their necks.

Draco brushed a finger against the smooth surface of the ring and shuddered at the power he felt emanting from it. Sighing again, he sent a flare of power into the ring and whispered in his mind, _Called to meeting of Inner Circle to report on your changed behavior. Shouldn't be long and probably won't be dangerous. . .wait for me in our special place if you can forgive me for earlier._

Slipping the ring back into his shirt to rest warmly against his chest, he stood and strode out of the room. He kept to the shadows as he made his way towards one of the secret passages leading off school grounds so that he could Apparate, yes illegally, to Lesley Castle. No one saw him and no one noticed his absence except for one raven-haired wizard in Gryffindor Tower. And within the blink of an eye, Draco Lucius Malfoy was gone.

* * *

-We wear the mask that grins and lies,

It hides our cheeks and shades our eyes-

This debt we pay to human guile;

With torn and bleeding hearts we smile,

And mouth with myriad subtleties.

-Why should the world be overwise,

In counting all our tears and sighs?

Nay, let them only see us, while

We wear the mask.

-We smile, but, O great Christ, our cries

To thee from tortured souls arise.

We sing, but oh the clay is vile

Beneath our feet, and long the mile;

But let the world dream otherwise,

We wear the mask.

_**We Wear the Mask** _;_ by Paul Lawrence Dunbar _

**

* * *

**

**"We Pay The Price"** is a new story my mind obsessed about for weeks until I finally gave in and started writing it. I've written an outline for the first five chapters, although only the first chapter is actually written out. I'm optimistic (for once) about updating often, and it hopefully won't interfere with updating my other stories. About this fic, the summary basically explains its entire point. Although, the story goes a lot more in-depth than that. This story is going to be the most detailed and novel-like story I've written so far, and I hope it turns out like I plan it to. The idea behind it is strong and I definitely don't want to lessen the emotion of it. The first couple chapters may seem a bit slow, but I need to explain the backround of a lot of key things behind the things that will occur in the story. A lot of changes in situations and characters will occur, so be forewarned.

Reviews will be greatly appreciated. Any comments regarding the flow of the story or anything helpful like that are welcomed and in fact, encouraged. I'd like all the help I can get! (Yes, we all know I need help. . .although mental help seems more urgent. . .hehe)

Much love, Roslyn Drycof. . .


	2. Pain

**Title**: We Pay The Price

**Author**: Roslyn Drycof

**Chapter**: One---Pain

**Pairing**: Harry/Draco, (others will be revealed later)

**Rating**: PG-13

**Warning**: slash, swearing, violence, angst, slight tragedy (no death of major characters, don't worry)

**Summary**: Children always have to pay the price for war and sometimes that cost is too much. Harry's spiralling out of control and taking Malfoy with him. Can his friends save him or will they too end up paying the price of war? Slash, angst, HPDM, and others

**Disclaimer**: Harry Potter and anything related to Harry Potter and Co. are not mine.

* * *

Harry James Potter entered the hidden room he had vacated only twenty minutes before, worry clenching his heart. Walking over to the mantel, he rubbed a finger almost absent-mindedly over the ring on his hand and looked at the clock. This antique clock was his focus during the times when Draco went to meetings. It kept his attention, kept him busy counting the minutes until Draco came back. If he was gone longer than two hours, then it was time to start worrying. Up till then, Harry could be reassured, however slightly, that his lover wasn't dead or dying.

His emerald eyes stared at the second hand, ticking its way around the face of the clock. Two seconds passed. Five seconds. Ten. Too slowly, he thought.

Draco had asked if he could manage to forgive him for his stupidity earlier. There was only one answer ringing in his mind, and that was yes. Of course he would forgive the Slytherin. He was his salvation, the only person in this wild and crazy world who even faintly understood him. Could he give up their precious minutes of shared understanding because Draco was scared to admit such a small sentiment as caring? No. He couldn't.

_Malfoy, you fool! What are you afraid of? Our relationship has nothing to do with love, so it can't be that. And you know I would never betray you, or abandon you. We're in this fight together. So what is it? Are you scarred that deeply?_

Inside, Harry knew it had to be something like that. Wasn't he himself scarred by the events of his own life? This war had caused more pain and horror than anyone could've ever imagined. And it was only going to get worse. In his heart, he knew this war was going to affect everyone with its deadly price. Every witch and wizard was going to know the kind of loss The-Boy-Who-Lived had experienced time and time again. It was something he dreaded.

Running a hand through his inky-black mass of hair, he began pacing the room with long strides. Tension thrummed through his veins and a frown darkened his chiseled features. He prayed that Draco was going to be okay, needed the grey-eyed boy to come back safely.

Why? Because of one, simple fact. They were each other's sanity in a world of insanity. Each kept the other from cracking, from breaking down and giving into the hell of their lives. Without Draco, Harry knew there would be nothing left to anchor him in the world. And it was the exact same for the Slytherin blond. They were connected by the very thing that was the focus of their lives. Their pain.

_Damnit, Draco! Come back safely! _he mentally cried out, closing his eyes against the sudden welling of hopelessness.

* * *

Draco appeared in the the entrance hall of Lesley Castle to find his father standing there with a slight frown on his aristocratic face.

"Draco, you're late by a full two minutes."

Suppressing a wince at hearing the heavy disapproval in Lucius' voice, he bowed and apologized, "I am sorry, Father. I had a slight difficulty in slipping away, but I'll make sure for it not to happen again in the future."

"I should hope not. Follow me, the meeting has already commenced. Bellatrix is giving her report on that dratted werewolf's whereabouts, and I know the Dark Lord will not be pleased. You should be able to slip in without any repercussions, being as his attention will surely be on her," the elder Malfoy told him as he led his son through the hallways of the castle.

Draco was immensely glad of this, and was also relieved that his information about Lupin's wanted state had managed to reach the werewolf in time. Lupin's death would've been a terrible blow both to the Order and towards Harry. Both which couldn't handle any more losses, especially at this crucial time in the war.

They entered the meeting hall to see Bellatrix indeed being punished for her lack of news, and Draco was surprised the Dark Lord was punishing her with his strongest form of _Crucio_. After Sirius Black's death, he'd been most pleased with her and had given her favored duties. The Dark Lord's moods were quite unpredictable, unfortunately. A person could go from being his top follower to a pile ash in less than a second. Quite scary, but what could you do? He _was_ the most powerful Dark Wizard in over a century.

Lucius and Draco made their way to the front of the room, a sneer of disdain twisting the older man's features. Draco, on the other hand, kept his face utterly blank. He showed no emotion whatsoever.

"Ah, Lucius, I see your son has arrived. Bring him to me," the Dark Lord commanded, raising a bony hand towards the adolescent boy.

Lucius did as his master bid and nudged his son with his cane. As slowly as he knew he could go without being reprimanded for being too slow, Draco approached the serpentine wizard. It was a relief that Lord Voldemort had decided to use some old blood magic to get a new tongue so he didn't speak so sibilantly. That snakey-speech had been a trifle unnerving.

"My lord," Draco whispered, bending down on one knee and bowing his head in submission.

After a few moments, the Dark Lord bade him to rise and ordered, "Give me information on the Potter boy."

It was a good thing Draco was good at thinking on his feet. "Well, my lord, he has become changed since you last met with him. He appears to hold a lot of anger, which he bottles up inside. The only person he shows emotion to anymore is myself, and it is that hatred. Our fights have become much more violent and I get the sense that he is doing it to block out the pain of his Godfather's passing."

The leader of the Death Eaters looked only slightly satisfied. "A tormented hero, always a good thing. But what about the rumors I have recieved of his increasing powers?"

Damn, the Dark Lord sure was thorough. "He has increased his training in DADA and it has been made apparent that he possesses the ability of wandless magic."

Voldemort hissed in response, anger showing in his red eyes. "I'd hoped those rumors had been false. Are you certain he possesses this ability?"

Draco nodded. "He has fought magically with me without going near his wand."

"How do his wandless abilities compare to yours?" It was no great secret that Draco's wandless abilities had been what caused the Dark Lord to make Draco a Death Eater so young.

Damn. He had to tread carefully here or risk giving that monster too much information. "Well, my lord, it is hard to tell. He uses great skill when fighting with me, and yet I get the feeling he is only revealing part of his talents. I believe he has roughly the same level of power as me, but I cannot be certain."

The Dark Lord was silent for a few minutes. "I get the feeling you are not being completely honest with me, young Malfoy."

Draco carefully closed off his mind, concentrating on being as much like a block of wood as he could. No emotions, no thoughts, no nothing.

"Why would I lie to you, my lord? I have hated him since I was eleven. He is the bane of every Death Eater's existence." No actual lying there.

The figure sitting on the throne narrowed his eyes at the boy. He'd caught no trace of lying in that statement, and yet he wasn't absolutely certain he wasn't hiding something. But what?

"I believe it is time for a test of your loyalty."

Draco had to fight the urge not to pale and tried to block out the muffled laughs of glee from the assembled Death Eaters. The Dark Lord's tests of loyalty always ended up with someone dead.

"Yes, my lord. What would you have me accomplish to restore your faith in my loyalty to you and your cause?"

The evil wizard didn't answer him, instead speaking to Blaise Zabini's father. "Zabini, retrieve the boy we collected in last night's raid."

"Yes, my lord." The tall man immediately left the room and came back a few minutes later, dragging a ten year old boy who was bloody and bruised. Terror shown in the boy's light-blue eyes.

Draco wanted to gag, but instead stood unmoving as the boy was tossed at his feet. "Please help me," the boy pleaded hoarsely, hopelessness in his eyes.

"Perform _Cruciatus_ on him."

Leaving his wand lying uselessly in his robe pocket, Draco raised his right hand and pointed it, palm first, at the boy. Pain churned in his heart, but he knew he had to do this or destroy the only link with the Death Eaters now that Snape had been outed as a traitor.

The boy cried out, instincively knowing there was no savior in the teenager in front of him. Regret flashed in Draco's eyes for a moment, but then it was gone, as if it had never been there. Then, he reached within the well of power inside of him and whispered one word, "_Crucio._"

A person casting and Unforgivable needed hatred to be able to cast it. Most people wouldn't be able to cast a truly strong Unforgivable charm, but Draco could. His hatred was a strong one, a hatred towards his father, Voldemort, and for the war.

Red light was flung from his fingertips and at the boy. Immediately, the youth started shaking as his muscles jumped and spasmed uncontrollably. Screams spilled from his mouth, one after the other. He curled up and tried to claw at himself, pain and utter terror shining in his cornflower blue eyes.

As he watched this innocent boy twist in pain, Draco felt more hatred rise up within him and the spell became stronger. Thirty seconds passed. Amazing that this little kid could last even that long under such a strong _Cruciatus_, but Draco knew he couldn't last much longer.

"Kill him. Use the Killing Curse."

Nausea bubbled up within the young Malfoy. He reached for more power and whispered the two words that had ended many lives already in this hateful war. "_Avada Kedavra_."

A green shot of his fingers with lightening speed and then the boy was dead, a smoking hole in his chest. Draco lowered his hand, clenching it and hiding it in the folds of his robe. His hand had caused that poor boy to die. His own hand!

The assembled Death Eaters were pleased at the display, and not just a little surprised that Draco had managed to cast such strong Unforgivables. A grudging respect sprung up at the young wizards abilities. He would be a useful tool in beating those lily-livered Light Wizards.

The rest of the meeting proceeded quite calmly, the Dark Lord satisfied that his youngest recruit was strong _and_ loyal. After two hours, it ended and Draco left without saying another word to anyone.

* * *

Back in the secret room, Harry was starting to worry. Malfoy had been gone for two hours, fourteen minutes, and thirty-eight seconds. A meeting had never taken this long, not since the first one. And Harry hadn't even known Malfoy was a spy then, the blond having told him about the horrors of his Initiation weeks later.

What if Draco had been found out as the spy he was? If that was the case, then he could be dead! No, wait. He'd know if the grey-eyed boy was dead. His ring would've gone dead, but it was alive and warm with magic. Draco was alive. But. . .what if he was facing some other horrible fate?

_Drat! I worry enough about Hermione and Ron as it is. Do I have to worry about Malfoy, too? The prat's right, I do have a stupid hero complex._

Harry sighed, dropping his head into his hands. His life was so goddamned complicated, he hated it. The war was horrible, causing so much needless suffering. Why couldn't it just be over? Why couldn't life be normal?!

Suddenly, the door slammed open and a hooded figure trudged inside. Harry looked up to see Malfoy remove his hood and reveal eyes blood-shot from holding in tears.

"How can you be so forgiving?" the blond asked, the question he asked much more than just the simple words. In that moment, Harry knew he didn't just mean for earlier.

Walking over to the silver-eyed boy, he put his hands on his shoulders and looked him straight in the eye. "What happened?"

Draco wouldn't look at him. A tear was freed from one eye and slid down an alabaster cheek.

This worried the Gryffindor. Malfoy never acted like this, never! "What happened?!"

Shuddering sobs escaped him, tears now falling freely down his face. He wrenched away from Potter and threw his hooded robe off. Wrapping his arms around himself, he stared blankly at the wall.

"_Draco, what happened?! Draco!_" Fear clutched Harry's heart and he whirled the other boy around the face him.

A bitter, choked laugh escaped Malfoy. "You really want to know? I killed a boy, an innocent muggle kid who should be tucked in bed, safe and happy right now! I fucking cast _Cruciatius _and _Avada Kedavra_ on a ten year old child!"

Shock crashed through the emerald-eyed teen. Struck mute, he stared at the wizard standing in front of him.

Seeing the Golden Boy's silence, Draco let out a shout of anger and suffering. He collapsed to his knees and cried out, "I was forced to kill an innocent kid, all just to prove my fucking loyalty. I could've refused, even though that would've meant my own death. But I did it, I killed him. I killed him!"

Harry clenched his fists in rage as he heard the words tumbling out of Draco's mouth. Voldemort was an evil bastard who deserved to burn in the seventh layer of hell for all eternity, along with Lucius Malfoy and Bellatrix Lestrange. No, even that wasn't harsh enough. They deserved the worst punishment anyone could ever get.

"Fucking hell, I'm going to kill those bastards for doing this to you. Before, I was just going to smoke Voldie, but now I'm going to get them all. Every last fucking one of them."

Draco looked up at this boy who used to be so calm and mild-mannered and was now so different, it was like he was an entirely different person. "I deserve to die, too."

Emerald eyes flared and Harry grabbed Malfoy, yanking him to his feet and shaking him. "No, you don't! There was no other way! You had to do it!"

"I could've refused. I would've died, but I could've refused. . .if I'd been good enough."

"The kid would've still been killed, even if you hadn't done it! Then not only would he be dead, but you would be too! Don't you get it? There was no other way!"

Draco wanted to deny Potter's words, but he couldn't. Finally, breaking down completely, he buried his head against the black-haired teen's shoulder and sobbed.

Feeling an emotion he'd never thought to feel for the blond, the feeling of protectiveness, Harry led Draco over to the bed and managed to them comfortable settled. He rubbed a soothing hand across the Slytherin's back, silently letting him cry away the raw pain from his ordeal.

They stayed there the entire night. Draco didn't fall asleep for another three hours, and it took Harry another two hours to finally drift off. Suffice to say, neither boy was going to wake up feeling too refreshed. . .and occurence that had been taking place much too often lately. . .

* * *

There's not a minute that goes by

that I wish I weren't living a lie.

Every single day I play my part,

even though it breaks my heart.

I never thought I'd end up this way

in a game pretending to be the part I play.

For some reason I stay right here,

freedom a thought I seem to fear.

Stuck here I sit and cry,

sitting and waiting for the day I die.

**_Playing My Part _**; _by N.M.C. _(me)

* * *

Voila. Chapter Two of "**We Pay The Price**". I haven't gotten many reviews for this story, which I'm kind of puzzled about, since I personally think it's my best. Oh well. I'll continue updating simply because I love the story. I think a problem many writers have is that they don't get into the deep ramifications of situations in Harry Potter. I absolutely love fluff and taking a break from deeper stuff is cool, but sometimes I wish there were just more stories that hit you hard in the gut because they're so strong. Does anyone know what I mean? (and I'm not bashing fluff stories! I write lots of fluff, myself)

Anyway, I hope I didn't come off as offensive. I just sometimes have explain things and they turn out the way I want them to. I take that as a sign that I'm doomed as a failure at writing, but hey, we can't all be amazing writer gods. I hope more people review, and really, it's not that hard. I'd appreciate even a few, simple words. Please review? It'd make me happy. . .and being happy is fun.

Music I listened to while writing: **Ra**, **Chevelle**, **Avril Lavigne**, and **Jesus Christ Superstar Soundtrack**

Roslyn Drycof.


	3. Numb

**Title**: We Pay The Price

**Author**: Roslyn Drycof

**Chapter**: Three---Numb

**Pairing**: Harry/Draco, (others will be revealed later)

**Rating**: PG-13

**Warning**: slash, swearing, violence, angst, slight tragedy (no death of major characters, don't worry)

**Summary**: Children always have to pay the price for war and sometimes that cost is too much. Harry's spiralling out of control and taking Malfoy with him. Can his friends save him or will they too end up paying the price of war? Slash, angst, HPDM, and others

**Disclaimer**: Harry Potter and anything related to Harry Potter and Co. are not mine.

* * *

"You shouldn't have stopped wearing all those lovely outfits," an oily voice whispered in Pansy Parkinson's ear.

Dread curling in her stomach, she turned to look into the face of the one person she hated the most. . .and feared the most. Theodore Nott stood beside her chair, a lecherous grin on his tanned face.

She clenched her fists and hissed, "You know why I stopped."

Nott raised an eyebrow, a lust-filled gleam in his dark brown eyes. "All I did was show you a good time. Why are you overreacting?"

Memories, awful memories, flew through her mind and it was all she could do not to cringe and show just how much she feared him. "Overreacting? You fucking raped me, you bastard. I don't call that a good time!"

"It's not like you were innocent. You could've enjoyed it if you'd wanted to."

She stared at him in disbelief. "You raped me in front of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and my father. You think I'd have enjoyed that? And with _you_?"

"You bitch! I'd have thought a slut like you would've been happy for a piece of arse." A malicious glint had appeared in his hard eyes.

Pansy swallowed harshly. "A slut like me? I'll have you know I was only with one person before you raped me."

"Who? Drakie-poo?" Nott sneered.

"No. I happened to have a nice relationship with Blaise last year."

"That wimp? You really are the base bitch I thought you were."

"I am not a bitch!" she screamed, causing the entire Slytherin common room to stare at them, curiousity burning in their eyes.

Nott saw the glances their way and mentally cursed. He couldn't afford to cause any scenes or his position as a Death Eater was threatened. If that fool Dumbledore found out he was a spy. . .there'd be hell to pay.

Before striding away, he leaned closer to his year-mate and whispered, "Better not get too complacent. I'll be back for another round. . ."

She shuddered, staring at his departing figure with fear swimming in her stomach. Another round? No! That couldn't happen!

"Pansy, what was that all about?" Draco Malfoy asked her a few minutes later, worried about her pale face and the fear-filled look in her blue eyes.

Seeing him, she narrowed her eyes and stood up. "None of your business."

The Slytherin Ice Prince was taken aback by the pure anger in her normally soft voice. What had happened between her and Nott for her to snap like this?

She stalked off, leaving Draco to stare at her retreating back with a mixture of worry and puzzlement churning in his mind.

* * *

That night, Harry Potter had a hard time falling asleep. Something was nagging him, and his scar was burning slightly. Voldemort was up to something, and he had a feeling it wasn't good. But then again, it never was.

Finally, after three hours of tossing and turning, he drifted off to sleep, only to be catapulted into a situation he always dreaded. He hated having visions of Voldemort, which he seemed to be having less often, but more terrible. Curse Snape for cutting off their Occulmency lessons!

_I__t's dark, and he was standing in a muggle home. It was an ordinary house, well-lived in and full of memory. A happy house. _

_But now it wasn't happy. There were Death Eaters ringed around the room, the living room it seems, and two muggle adults were shaking in fear at what was happening. Odd, but they seemed to know exactly who'd broken into their home. _

_"Please leave us alone! This'll hurt our daughter too much!" the muggle man cried out, his soft brown eyes pleading with him. _

_Harry, as Voldemort, said, "Precisely. You didn't think we chose you at random?"_

_Harry felt dread crashing through him. Their daughter went to Hogwarts. . .and they looked so familiar. Who were they?!_

_"She hasn't done anything to you!" the muggle woman said, hopelessness in her melodious voice. _

_Harry knew that voice. It was the voice of. . .oh no! Not Hermione's mother! And father!_

_"She has done much to hinder my plans, the stupid mudblood. And your deaths with hurt her, which will hurt the Potter boy."_

_Harry felt rage course through him as he heard Voldemort's ugly voice say those things. How dare he hurt Hermione to get to him!_

_Suddenly, Harry was catapulted out of Voldemort's mind to view the scene from a sort of omniprescent view. Voldemort looked up and there was a malicious gleam of pleasure in his red eyes. _

_"How nice of you to join us, Potter. Care to see what happens to these poor, innocent muggles?"_

_Harry screamed in fury at the mocking tone in that monster's voice. "Damn you!"_

_"Already been done, dear boy."_

_Voldemort then turned to face Hermione's parents again. He motioned for two figures beside him to step forward. Harry knew them. It was Lucius Malfoy and Bellatrix Lestrange. He knew by how they stood, the way they obeyed their Dark Lord instantly, and with pride. They were two Death Eaters used to much privilege, favored minions._

_"Torture them and kill them. Take however long you want," Lord Voldemort commanded, malevolent glee twisting his words._

_Hermione's mother and father stood huddled together, fear and despair in their usually kindly eyes. Harry wanted to scream at the look on their faces. It wasn't fair!_

_Lucius Malfoy raised his wand and pointed it towards Mr. Granger. His whispered word seemed to blare through the silent room. "_Crucio

_Hermione's father jerked instantly, his muscles spasming uncontrollably. Harry knew how much it hurt, how terrible it was, and he shuddered in sympathy. _

_Bellatrix raised her arm next, pointed it at the now-crying Mrs. Granger. She didn't whisper the curse, but shouted it proudly and with pleasure. "_Crucio

_"No!" Harry screamed, his heart breaking at the sight of Hermione's parents twitching and jerking in unimaginable pain. _

_"Beautiful, isn't it?" Voldemort hissed softly, knowing what it would do to the Boy-Who-Lived. _

_Harry roared, staring hopelessly at the scene in front of him. Lucius and Bellatrix were opening their mouths to speak the killing curse in unison. And Harry couldn't do anything but watch helplessly as the two worst words in the wizarding world were spoken with relish. "_Avada Kedavra

_"No! Not to them!"_

_Green light exploded from the wands of the two Death Eaters, racing towards Mr. and Mrs. Granger at the speed of light. And then Hermione's parents were dead, their eyes staring unseeingly at the ceiling. _

_"Sweet dreams. . ." Voldemort whispered and then Harry was ripped from the scene. _

He jerked awake, his chest heaving and tears spilling down his cheeks. Hands were gripping his shoulders, and he looked up into the face of Ron Weasley. His best friend.

Ron looked horror-stricken, a sickening realization growing in his eyes. "You screamed. It woke me up. Please say it wasn't a vision. Please!"

Harry stared at his friend and took a shuddering breath. "I can't. He. . .killed them."

"Who?!" the redhead yelled, terrified he already knew.

"Hermione's parents," Harry whispered, looking away.

Ron reeled back, disbelief written clearly on his freckled features. "You're lying. They're not dead! They're not!"

Finally, everything about this night got to Harry and he snapped. He jumped out of bed and glared at Ron. "They are. I saw them be tortured and killed before my very eyes, and there was nothing I could do to save them."

He stormed out the dormitory room, going down to the common room and throwing himself onto a red couch. The vision kept replaying in his mind, haunting him and taunting him.

Hermione would be devastated. Her parents, the two poeple whom she loved most in the world, dead? It would hit her hard. . .so hard.

Harry heard footsteps coming down the corridor from the boy's dormitories and knew it was Ron.

"This is going to kill her," the next-to-youngest-Weasley murmured, dropping into the chair that sat beside Harry' couch.

They didn't say anything else, just sat there through the night. Neither wanted morning to come, when they knew Hermione would find out. It would be hell, utter hell.

Around seven o'clock, a familiar figure came down the stairs that led to the girls' dormitories. It was Hermione. When she saw her friends sitting in the common room, a frown furrowed her eyebrows.

"What are you doing down here this early? Or this late, I should say," she asked, noticing that they were still in their pyjamas. Neither looked like they'd had much sleep.

Ron bit his lip and looked away from his girlfriend. Harry shut his eyes, a pained expression on his face. It was the most real emotion she'd seen in him in weeks. And for that emotion to be one pain and sorrow, that wasn't good. Something had to be terrible wrong.

"Ron? Harry?"

After a few moments, Harry stood up and touched a hand to his scar. Hermione knew what that meant. He'd had a vision. But what had he seen that was so bad?

His voice was hoarse when he finally spoke. "Voldemort killed two muggles last night. They. . .they were your parents."

Hermione froze, his words resounded over and over again in her mind. _They were your parents. . .they were your parents. _

"No! I don't believe you!" she cried out, tears shining in her chestnut eyes.

But she knew it was true when she saw his emerald eyes. They were shadowed by pain, glittering with unshed tears. And she knew. They were gone.

Her breathing hitched and she felt her world going blurry as tears spilled from her eyes. Her head was pounding, and memories of her parents' smiling faces flashed through her mind. She collapsed to the ground, her arms wrapped around herself.

She stayed like that for a long time, until her aching heart had become numb and dead. Until all her tears were dried up and all she could do was stare ahead of her with a blank look in her eyes.

* * *

The Headmaster made the announcement at breakfast, two hours later. The Golden Trio sat at the Gryffindor table, both boys flanking Hermione protectively. She didn't eat or talk, simply staring straight ahead. Her eyes had lost their gleam, their life.

The entire Great Hall was subdued that day, even the Slytherins. Especially the Slytherins. Although they didn't like her for being a Gryffindor and a mudblood, they knew what it was like to lose someone close to them. They knew how it felt to have something special ripped away from them. And they knew she'd be forever changed.

Hermione finally spoke when breakfast ended. Her voice dull and hoarse, she told her friends, "I'm going to Hogsmeade alone today."

Ron was shocked. "You're still going?"

She raised an eyebrow at him. "And why shouldn't I? There's things I need to get."

"But you're parents. . ." He stopped himself before he said the dreaded word.

The brunette seemed unconcerned. "That doesn't mean I should forget about my own needs. I'm going, and I won't let you pursuade me otherwise."

He sputtered, his eyes wide and disbelieving at her behavior.

Harry had been watching their interaction closely, and knew Hermione was going to be okay. She would live on, albeit changed from her earlier self, but in no danger of becoming unhinged with grief. He knew because he'd acted the same exact way when Sirius had died.

"It's good you're getting out, 'Mione," he told her.

She jerked her head in a quick motion in response. Smart Hermione knew his hidden meaning behind those innocuous words.

Ron simply looked outraged that Harry had taken her side. Had they both gone mental? He stared in amazement as Hermione stood up and strode away, an emotionless mask on her face. And he couldn't help but think. . ._That mask certainly looks a lot like Harry's_. . .

* * *

Five hours later, Ron and Harry sat at a table the Hog's Head. Ron had protested going to such a disreputable tavern, but Harry had been adamant. He'd said that he wasn't in the mood for such an insipid atmosphere and weak drinks. This had puzzled his friend, but Ron was just glad to be spending time with him. Harry had been deserting them a lot lately, and any time with him had become special.

"Does 'Mione know where to meet us?" Ron asked, worried.

The raven-haired boy nodded, taking a sip of his firewhiskey. Usually, firewhiskey was illegal to under-aged wizards, but this was the Boy-Who-Lived we're talking about. The bartender was a friendly sort and wasn't averse to obliging the young celebrity.

"She knows." Of course, she knew no such thing. But Harry had to placate his friend and knew Hermione would show up there anyway. Hadn't he become fond of a bit of firewhiskey every now and then to dull the pain?

"Potter, didn't know you were the sort to drown your sorrows in a bottle of alcohol," an arrogant voice sneered.

Harry suppressed a grin as he turned to look at who was intruding on him and Ron. Draco Malfoy stood there, a smirk on his face and a familiar gleam in his eyes.

"Hello, Malfoy. Care to join us?"

Ron spluttered, staring wide-eyed at his best friend. Join them? Had Harry gone off the deep end?

Malfoy raised an eyebrow. "Who, me? You know I wouldn't lower myself to sitting with a Weasley."

Harry didn't take offense at the comment. This was just play-acting, with run of the mill insults being traded. They didn't mean anything.

"Hmm. I rather think you're afraid of dirtying your reputation by sitting with the Boy-Who-Lived-to-kick-Death-Eater-arse."

A laugh was torn from Draco's throat. "Nice one, Potter. Did you come with that all on your own?"

Harry was about to reply, when a girl came up behind the Slytherin and snapped, "Shove off, Malfoy. Don't you have something better to do, like fuck one of your whores, instead of bothering Harry?"

Three pairs of eyes stared at the girl in stunned surprise. Hermione Granger stood there with her hands on her hips and a glare in her eyes. At first, they didn't recognize her, she'd changed so much. But no one could deny that that was her voice, or her bossy stance.

Draco remembered third year, when she'd taken her first stand against him. Her fist connecting with his face had hurt like hell. And the black eye that had appeared because of it. . .well, it hadn't gone away until after a week later.

She looked like that now, anger flaring in her brown eyes. Except, she was also different. She'd cut her hair and added big, chunky blonde highlights to it. She was wearing make up, which included eyeliner and purple eyeshadow, blush, and lipgloss that made her lips look full and pouty. Her skirt was now several inches shorter, she'd unbuttoned the top three buttons of her shirt to show some cleavage, and she had two more ear piercings in each ear.

"'Mione?" Ron squeaked, shocked at her new appearance.

"Shut your mouth. Are you trying to catch flies with it open like that?" she said to him, crossing her arms across her chest. It pushed her breasts up nicely.

A flush spread across his face and he snapped his mouth shut.

Harry looked her over, liking the new look immensely. It had personality, and it suited her. "I'm liking the look, 'Mione."

She smirked. "Of course you would. It's right down your alley."

"Well. I guess I can't you a bookish prude anymore, Granger. If you continue to look like this, you'll have guys beating on the portrait to Gryffndor Tower," Malfoy spoke, looking at her with something akin to respect in his silver eyes.

Hermione took this as the compliment it was. "Although, you won't be one of them."

A smirk twisted his lips. "Of course. You're not my type."

She knew what he meant by "type". It was no secret that he preferred guys to girls. Harry would be more his type that her, even with them being hated enemies and all.

He strode away then, heading towards the booth Pansy Parkinson and Blaise Zabini were sitting at drinking firewhiskey.

A few moments later, Hermione slid into the booth beside Harry and asked, "So, what's a girl got to do to get a firewhiskey around here?"

* * *

-She's running

and she can't get away;

she has nowhere to stay.

-She's screaming inside,

she can't let the pain out.

It's tearing her up inside,

and there's nothing she can do.

-She's on the outside

looking in on the inside.

She's been rejected,

there's no place to go.

-She's doesn't know why

she can never find home.

She's lost,

she wants to find home.

-She's running

and she can't get away;

she had nowhere to stay.

**_She's Running _**; _by N.M.C. _(me)

* * *

Chapter Three is up! It took me four hours to write, not including the half hour the power went out. Unfortunately, I live in Western PA and we got 5.95 inches of rain two days ago as the remnants of Hurrican Ivan. So many places in my area flooded, although my street was lucky and only half my basement flooded a few inches. Hundreds of other people lost their homes and businesses. One man even lost his life. It's horrible. You can see pictures at the website of the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, and they are terrible.

Well, because I am a devoted fanfic writer, I got this chapter up and written even though I'm still in shock over how bad the flooding was. Four dams in the area went. Four! And if the Canonsburg dam had gone, Bridgeville would be gone. Luckily it didn't, but it was close. Scary.

I hope you like this chapter and I really want to thank the people who've reviewed my story so far, even though there aren't a lot of them. That just makes the people who did review all the more special. Thanks a million! Please review this chapter, too!

Music I listened to while writing: **Shinedown**, **Spineshank**, and **Sugarcult**.

Roslyn Drycof.


	4. Heartless

**Title**: We Pay The Price

**Author**: Roslyn Drycof

**Chapter**: Four---Heartless

**Pairing**: Harry/Draco, (others will be revealed later)

**Rating**: PG-13

**Warning**: slash, swearing, violence, angst, slight tragedy (no death of major characters, don't worry)

**Summary**: Children always have to pay the price for war and Harry's been paying for it for sixteen years. Draco feels the War's dangerous claws as a spy. Lovers, but not in love, they struggle to stop the War before more of their friends pay the price. HPDM

**Disclaimer**: Harry Potter and anything related to Harry Potter and Co. are not mine.

----------

That night, the Golden Trio sat in front of the fire in the Gryffindor common room, each sitting apart from the others. Harry sat in a plushy gold chair, Hermione in the red chair, and Ron all alone on the large couch. Before, Ron sadly recalled, they would've all sat on the couch together.

Things were changing, and the redhead knew it wasn't for the better. As much as he'd hated the term "the Golden Trio", he'd liked how it symbolized their close friendship. Now, there was no more Golden Trio. First, Harry had distanced himself. And now Hermione was pulling away, too. The old days were over.

Ron hated it. He knew it was because of the war. And he hated the war. His own family was divided because of it! Stupid Percy had to get caught up by Fudge's idiocy and now there were only six Weasley children, Percy no longer a part of the family. So many families were being torn apart by this stupid war! Hell, some people didn't have any family left because of it. Harry and Hermione were orphans because of it. Orphans!

Still, he didn't understand why Harry and now Hermione were acting so strangely. Where they were once open and smiling, they were now closed up and indifferent. He couldn't understand why they were changing so much and shutting him out. It had been almost tolerable with Harry, but now Harry was encouraging Hemione to be like that, too. Why? Why were they being so crazy?!

He looked over at Hermione and had to suppress a shudder at the sight of her blank face, her eyes cold and unreadable. And dear Merlin, she looked like a Slytherin with those clothes!

Turning to Harry, he grimaced. His best friend looked exactly like a dark-haired, green-eyed version of Malfoy. There was no trace of the old Harry in those sleek clothes, in those hard eyes that looked so unforgiving.

Suddenly, he couldn't take it anymore. "What the fuck is wrong with you, Harry?! I don't even recognize you anymore!"

The raven-haired teen turned cool jade eyes to stare at him with an assessing glint in their depths. "Ron, dear Ron, are my eyes not the familiar green, my hair the same inky-black color? Do I not have the lightening bolt scar still marking my forehead? I am still Harry Potter, same as always."

Ron hated the way Harry spoke his dispassionately cool words with a sardonic quirk of his lips. It was distinctly arrogant and all-Slytherin. This was not the same Harry Potter, the all-_Gryffindor_ Harry.

"You are not the same! You fucking look like Malfoy! That is not the Harry Potter, my _best friend_, I remember," he exploded, jerking his arms out with a tense movement of frustration and anger.

Harry smirked at the raging teen. "Like Malfoy, you say? I wasn't aware my hair was blond and I had silver eyes. And a ferret-like face? How interesting, Ron."

"You know what I mean! You walk arrogantly like him, you smirk like him, and you freakin' talk like him, in that annoyingly sardonic voice that makes people feel like you're looking down on them! Hell, you even dress like the ferret, with that earring and those silk clothes. It's like you're trying to be a Slytherin!"

Harry's eyes went cold and he crossed his arms across his chest. "I'll let you in on a little secret. I was supposed to be in Slytherin, but I pursuaded the Sorting Hat no to put me there. I'm not _trying_ to be a Slytherin, I'm just showing who I really am. It's no use pretending to be some happy, little dunderhead who doesn't have a care in the world. I've been through shit, and it's opened my eyes to the fact I don't need to pretend anymore. In fact, I can't pretend anymore. I can't be someone I'm not!"

Hermione had been listening with only half an ear, but Harry's last response had been quite attention-worthy. "Too true, Harry."

Ron didn't like the superior tone in her voice. "Hermione, you have no room to talk. You've gone mental over your parents' deaths!"

"Excuse me, Ron? Did you just call me mental? I don't appreciate that, because it is simply not true. I am coping very well, considering the situation." She levelled a strong glare at her boyfriend.

He snorted in response and Hermione glared even harder. "Fine. If you're going to be an ass, I'm breaking up with you. Yes, Ronald Weasley, we are through."

With that, the brunette stalked away and disappeared up the stairs to the girls' dormitories. Ron was left to gape unbelievingly at the space she'd occupied only moments before. Then he turned on his friend, who sat slouched in his chair with a satisfied grin curving his lips.

"You're encouraging her! Why in the bloody hell are you encouraging her?!" he yelled, tears glittering in his blue eyes.

Harry gracefully got to his feet and stretched in a way that was distinctly feline. He turned shadowed emerald eyes to his best friend and said, "I wouldn't expect you to understand, not having gone through what we have. But you should know that you should always support your friends, even when you don't understand them sometimes. She's going to be fine, given time. She's just growing up, Ron. You're so lucky you haven't had to yet, did you know that? Treasure your ignorance, because one day everything will come crashing down around your ears and you'll be helpless to stop it."

He smiled a soft smile that held a thousand broken hopes and walked away. Ron watched him leave, a strange pang in his heart. Somewhere deep inside of his soul, he knew that Harry was telling him some important truth, but for the life of him he couldn't figure it out. What had he meant by not growing up? He wasn't a kid, he was sixteen. And yet, something told him that was was an innocent babe in arms when compared to Harry and Hermione.

_Will this madness ever end? Things are changing so much, and I can't do anything to stop it. When will it all stop? Will it ever go back to normal?_

* * *

Hermione Granger's entrance into the Great Hall the next morning was noted with more than a little shock by the students already seated. Make up enhanced her average features enough to make her actually attractive, and her outfit was gape-worthy. Her uniform skirt came to halfway down her thighs, her shirt was unbuttoned enough to show some cleavage that had somehow, almost-magically been utterly hidden before, and her usually sensible Oxfords were replaced with knee-high tie-up boots with three inch stiletto heels.

Her honey-colored eyes sharp and cold, a smirk twisting her lips, she stalked over the Gryffindor table and sat down beside an amused Harry Potter. A sardonic smile was in place on his alabaster features and his emerald eyes glittered coldly. "Just the look, darling 'Mione."

She crossed her legs gracefully and raised a delicate eyebrow at him. "Eloquent this morning, aren't we _Harrykins_?"

Everyone waited with bated breath to see what the Boy Who Lived's reaction was, half-hoping that he'd be angry with her blatant mockery. He simply leaned his head back and laughed. It was a sound that sent shivers down many spines. It was dark and rich, the sound of black silk sheets rustling in a candlelit room, of forbidden whispers and furious passion. It didn't belong in the Great Hall, coming out of Harry Potter's mouth.

Another sound joined his husky laugh, a feminine laugh that breathed seductively across bare skin. It was a sound of hidden caresses, of warm vanilla and musk, and of exotic pleasures found in the shadows of the night. Hermione Granger's laugh was a sound that stilled many a heartbeat and instilled fear in longing in young hearts. It was a sound that never should have escaped her rose-petal lips.

Over at the Slytherin table, Draco Malfoy had a hard time in trying not to join in their dark laughter. It was a sound that sang through his veins, beat in his own heart. It called to him.

"Hell, that did not just happen," breathed Blaise Zabini, his eyes wide with lust and wonder.

Draco narrowed his eyes at his friend. "It did, and it would be wise to stop looking like a lovestruck Hufflepuff. You have no business in thinking exactly what I know you're thinking about Granger."

Blaise frowned, catching the thunderous scowl on Draco's features. "What gives? She's free game."

"You are a heartless playboy, Zabini. The girl just lost her parents for fuck's sake, and you're lusting after her because of a stupid laugh."

"Don't tell me that didn't affect you!"

Draco smirked at the sandy-haired boy, the laugh he'd tried to suppress only moments before escaping from between his parted lips. It froze Zabini, who stared at him with slack-jawed astonishment. And why shouldn't he? It was a sound of silken skin writhing furiously, of blood spilling, of the line between pain and pleasure falling apart and never-ending ecstasy.

"Why should the sound of their laughter affect me when my own is as dark and powerful?" he asked in a deceptively-soft voice a few moments later, a harsh light in his silver eyes.

Blaise suddenly feared the blond more than anyone. He knew he was an innocent compared to him, a pathetic child in the eyes of one who'd seen so many horrific things. Too many horrific things. The kind of things that changed a person forever. . .just like how Potter and Granger were changed.

And he knew that the War had done all this. They were the victims of a War they never should've been a part of, but were because of who they were. Draco, the son of Lord Voldemort's right hand man. Potter, the bloody Boy Who Lived. Granger, the best friend of the savior of the wizarding world and a muggleborn who'd helped defeat the Dark Lord numerous times. They were condemned simply for being born who they were or who they befriended.And it was all because of this stupid War. The War that innocent people were paying the price for!

Suddenly, Blaise felt insignifigant and young. He hadn't been hit by the War, and knew nothing of what it felt like. And yet. . .his heart told him that he wouldn't stay untouched forever. His turn was coming, oh it was coming. . .

And he feared it with every fiber of his being.

* * *

Three weeks later, Harry and Hermione were leaning against the wall outside the Transfiguration room before their double class with Slytherin, when Draco Malfoy arrived, sans his two bodyguards.

"Hey Potty, did your girlfriend here give you that hickey displaced so vulgarly on your neck?" his cultured voice drawled insultingly.

Harry had to bite back a laugh at Malfoy's chosen words. What a way to show off the hickey he'd placed there himself! "Terribly sorry, ferret, but I don't have a girlfriend. Being gay kind of hinders that, you know. And besides, a girl could never give a hickey this good. Aggressiveness is a guy's forte, although I'm sure you know all about that."

"Actually Potter, I don't. I would never be a submissive, like you obviously are." There was blatant mockery in Malfoy's silver eyes when he said this.

Harry pretended to be offended. "Me, a sub?! Ridiculous! You're much more of a sub than me. You're thinner, more feminine, and obviously weaker."

Draco grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and hissed, "You take that back, you fucking whore!"

"Whore?! You're one to talk, Death Eater scum!" Harry yelled, shoving at the blond.

"You mudblood-loving git!"

Harry was ready with another run-of-the-mill insult when Hermione suddenly forced them apart and sneered at Malfoy, "You're one to talk, bowing and scraping to a half-blood monster! You sicken me!"

Yet again Draco was surprised by the vehemence in her voice and he appraised her. "Didn't know you had it in you, Granger."

Her face was twisted into a contemptuous scowl and she hissed, "You don't know a lot of things about me. Like how I know about you're secretly fucking someone with a crescent-shaped birthmark on their arse."

Draco paled, which hadn't seemed possible since he was so pale already, but the blood drained from his face and he looked shocked. In a movement only she caught, his eyes flickered to the emerald-eyed boy in front of him, who by the way was looking distinctly pale as well. Harry had to actually clench his hands into fists to keep from reaching out and touching the birthmark on his behind.

"Students! Enough lally-gagging about in the hallway!" Professor McGonagall's stern voice broke apart the three teenagers.

Draco stalked into the room as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Hermione walked in calmly, a cat-ate-the-canary grin curving her generous mouth. Harry was last, a thunderous expression on his features and a look in his eyes that promised retribution to the satisfied brunette.

Hours later in the Gryffindor common room, Harry cornered Hermione and whispered harshly, "How the hell do you know?!"

She glared at him with a pitying look in her brown eyes. "I may be different from who I used to be, but my observational skills haven't faded. You both have similar bruises and scratches. Whenever you're missing, so's he. I've caught you staring at each other when you think no one's looking. And did I mention the Marauders' Map was very useful?"

Jealousy entered Harry's mind. Why had she been looking at Draco closely enough to notice the scratches and bruises that were well-hidden by his robes? And why the hell had she gone through his things and used the Marauders' Map without his permission? "Why are you acting this way with me?! I know what you're going through!"

Hermione looked disbelieving and crossed her arms. "Oh really? Looks like you coped pretty well with Sirius' death."

Harry glared at her, his jaw clenching angrily. "Yeah, and that's why I got a tattoo, got my ear pierced, spike my hair, and _started fucking my biggest enemy_!"

His words ended in a shout, his eyes blazing with jade fury. Then suddenly, he pressed a hand to just below his collarbone, fear shadowing his features. "Fuck, Draco's in trouble."

He ran out of the common room abruptly, leaving Hermione no choice but to follow with confusion clouding her mind. How did he know that? Their shoes sounded sharply on the stone floors as they raced through the corridors of the school, Harry seeming to know exactly where to go. They ended up on the third floor in a rarely-used corridor that was dark with shadows.

A slender figure is lying in a fetal position near a statue of a unicorn. Silver-blond hair shines in the faint torchlight and the figure pants for breath. It is Draco Malfoy, his robes torn and bloodied.

"Malfoy!" Harry cried out softly, kneeling beside the injured boy.

"Knew these rings were good for something," Draco said wryly, attempting to sit up.

Harry helped him, even though the blond glared at him for doing so. "What happened?"

Draco's grey eyes dropped to the floor and he muttered angrily, "Nott gave me a little reminder that screwing up isn't good for my health. It seems that something I told the Dark Lord led them into a trap and two Death Eaters were captured."

Hermione stood in the shadows, confusion warring in her mind. Was Malfoy not just a Death Eater like she'd thought? She stayed hidden, although she knew Harry knew she was there. Malfoy probably wouldn't want to see her there just yet.

"What was Dumbledore thinking?! He had to know any trap could be traced back to you!" Harry growled, pressing his hand to Malfoy's wounds and healing them with wandless magic.

Draco slowly got to his feet, leaning heavily on the raven-haired Gryffindor. "He probably thought once wouldn't hurt, the old fool."

Suddenly, his eyes narrowed and he peered into the nearby shadows. There was a form hidden there, a distinctly feminine one. "Granger?! What the hell is she doing here?!"

The question was directed at Harry, but Hermione stepped forward and asked an indifferent voice, "Are you a spy?"

Draco glared at her, drawing himself taller even though all his muscles ached. "You can't tell anyone, not even the weasel. Understood? Only Snape, Dumbledore, Potter, and now you know."

"What do you think I am, stupid? We need the information you bring. I would never jeopardize your position by blabbing it!" The girl sounded affronted.

Draco nodded, believing her. He groaned, as Potter's hand touched a particularly sensitive bruise Nott had given him. The area was instantly filled with a pleasant heat, relieving the pain.

"What did he do? Physically beat you up? I'd have thought he'd use magic," Harry asked, wincing in sympathy as he touched another sore spot.

The blond-haired Slytherin shook his head. "Wand magic can be traced. And besides, the spells he would've used would've been detected by Dumbledore's wards."

Hermione frowned. "Why didn't you fight back?"

"Obvious answer, Granger. He was a messenger from Voldemort. I have to submit to any punishment the bastard deems necessary."

She narrowed her eyes angrily. "That's not fair. You shouldn't have to go through with that kind of treatment."

"What can I do? I'm a spy pretending to be a good, little Death Eater. It's the price I have to pay." Draco shrugged his shoulders, feeling a lot better as Potter's hands finished healing him.

"It's the price of war, you mean. No matter which path you would've chosen, you'd have had to pay the bloody price of the War."

A grim smile twisted his lips and a dark light glittered in his silver eyes. "It's a price we all have to pay."

* * *

-We're broken inside,

Faded shells and imitations

All that's left are the

Pieces of the wreckage

-_We never had a chance_

-They stole our spirit,

Killed our child-like innocence

They tore apart the future,

Shredding all dreams to dust

-Darkness is our only friend,

The last ally at our side

Hope and light retreated long ago,

Knowing the fight was futile

-Our world is slowly dying,

Burning out under the burden

Of the hate, the blood, and war

-In the dust of the falling night,

They ask themselves how this happened

How could they have been so blind

To the suffering they caused?

-We are victims of the ever-going fight

To save the land from destruction

Nobody ever saw the truth,

That we in essence, destroyed ourselves

With all we did to save ourselves

-_We never had a chance_

-Blame it on the faultiness of our race,

On the ignorance of the human people

We let ourselves go astray,

Led by the leaders who swore to save us

**_We Never Had A Chance _**; _by N.M.C. _(me)

* * *

A/N: Chapter Four is up after weeks of procrastination. This story is my baby, and I really want to have it be as perfect as I can make it. And even though I was sick today, I finished it so I could get it up.

Well, I've just nudged at the plot a bit more this chapter. Soon, you'll begin to see how the characters I've mentioned in more than passing fit in with the whole plotline. The characters who play a big part in this story are: Harry (of course), Draco (another obvious one), Hermione (wow, as if she wasn't obvious too), Ron (tell me you saw this one too), Pansy (beginning of chapter three should've tipped you off), Blaise (not as obvious, but noticeable), and one more who hasn't been mentioned at all yet. I'll give you another hint to the mysterious plot next chapter, just to keep you anticipating more of the story. I'm trying to be evil right now. . .is it wokring? grin

Thanks so much for the reviews! This chapter was utterly dedicated to the people who'd taken the effort to review my favorite story (although **Spirit of the Veela** and **The Potterboy Problem** are close seconds). Thank you again, from the bottom of my heart! And please review this chapter, too. I really like to hear how you like this story and questions are welcome! If anyone does ask any important questions, I promise to answer them next chapter.

Music I listened to while writing: **Linkin' Park** and **Papa Roach**

Roslyn Drycof.


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